


A Touch of Princess Pink

by Loreyulia



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Cuteness overload, Dealing With Loss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Character Death, Parental Roy Mustang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8654560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loreyulia/pseuds/Loreyulia
Summary: A week after the murder of Maes Hughes, Roy Mustang finally comes to terms with the death of his best friend. In the wake of this tragedy, it has left him a broken, self loathing man that depends too heavily on thoughts of revenge and alcohol to cope. Until one snowy evening, he visits the family of his deceased best friend. The warm, loving home of the Hughes family and the innocence of Hughes' daughter Elicia help a healing process Roy was not sure could ever occur.





	

The scratching sound of my pen against the paper and the tick of the archaic clock to my right, are the only noises that fill up the silent space of my office. It's another boring day at Central Command, comprised of paperwork, and weak coffee. My hand stops halfway from completing my signature on some important document about the restoration of an old, Central landmark. I stretch and stifle a yawn, a couple tears gather at the edges of my eyes as I lean back in my stiff chair. Not for the first time, have I considered petitioning for an armchair for my desk, because if they expected me to do nothing but sit on my ass all day, at least Central Command could let me do it in comfort... 

A brisk knock at my door catches my attention. "Come in Lieutenant," I say loud enough for her to hear me. I don't have to ask who it is, because aside from Falman and Fuery, she is the only one of my subordinates who bothers to knock-- and they each have their distinct ways of doing it. Falman is a rapid three-knocker, while Fuery always does a timid two. The door swings open and the slim figure of Riza Hawkeye slips in, her arms full of another load of paperwork. I groan audibly, already cursing the white sheets of paper that seem to mock me at every turn, to the fiery depths of hell. 

"Sir, Command has requested your signature on these as soon as possible." Hawkeye's cool voice and stoic expression do not waver, regardless of how petulantly I glare at her. She sets the giant stack of papers down on my desk with an ominous thud, and in that moment I swear I can hear a part of my soul dying. I know at this point that I'm pouting rather childishly, but I can't muster up the will to fight it. Paperwork is the work of the devil, and my ass is sore. 

"Do I have to sign these now?" I whine, and sound like a pathetic child even to my own ears.  
Hawkeye does not look amused in the slightest, and chooses to reply sternly, "Yes Sir. These documents are of the utmost importance." I heave a pissy sigh, and glare darkly between the stiff woman in front of me, and the evil mountain of paperwork. 

"Fine, you win... as usual Lieutenant." I groan, the moment I notice her fingers twitch toward the gun fastened at her hip by a well oiled, leather holster.  
A small smile graces her lips as she says, "I'm glad you see it my way, Sir." She nods curtly and turns brusquely on her heels, and walks back to my office door. "Oh, and try not to procrastinate too much Sir, it would be wise of you to fill those out as soon as possible. You never know what can earn you a few points with the Fuhrer that way." Riza shuts the door on her way out with a certain punctuality so befitting of her character, that I have to chuckle. Even on boring days like this, my subordinates never fail to amuse me. 

 

A steaming bowl of vegetable soup and a warm roast beef sandwich sit somewhat unnoticed on the desk in front of me. I had Breda fetch me some lunch from my favorite corner Bistro when he went on a food run for everyone. It smells delicious, the soup perfumes the air with a delicate balance of herbs, and the hearty scent of freshly baked bread compliments it perfectly. My stomach growls weakly, seeming to beg me to start nourishing it, but I just continue to stare forlornly at the curls of steam rising toward the ceiling. 

My heart is steadily sinking like a stone into the pit of my empty stomach. The absence of a very loud, very eccentric man is crushing my resolve like a weight gradually pressed harder and harder into a pane of glass. The harsh burn along the bridge of nose and eyes that always accompanies unwanted tears, makes me willfully force them back. But they come rushing to the surface all the same. 

It's been a whole damn week since Hughes was brutally murdered, and the only time I have allowed myself the selfish need to cry, was the day he was dumped and buried below stone cold earth. My fingers clench along the wooden surface of my desk, the tick of the clock mocking me through the silence that Hughes's absence has caused. I can't hold back the audible sob that escapes me, to float into empty space and fade quickly into nothingness. 

My shoulders shake as I try, and fail to keep myself from falling apart. It took seven days, a whole fucking week for me to come to the brutal realization that Hughes is never coming back. My office door will never be thrown open again, excited chatter exploding into this room to dispel the oppressive silence. He was my best, and closest friend and I had loved him more than I had let myself love any one else in a very long time. This was precisely why I let so few people get close to me, because it hurt like hell when they were gone. 

I slump forward and my face presses against the cold, wooden surface of my desk. Tonight is going to be rough, and I know that I will most likely find myself stumbling home in a drunken daze. I sigh, thick and heavy. There are some things that I have to take care of first, before I can seek out the closest Bar and lose myself in the warm numbness of intoxication. 

It's the last thing in all of Amestris that I want to do right now but... well, I have a moral obligation to stop by, and see how Gracia is holding up. She needs some one right now just as much as I do, and if my own heart is already a shattered, bleeding mess I can't begin to fathom how she is feeling. 

 

Central is unnaturally cold this winter. So cold in fact, that it is only the beginning of December, yet icicles are already forming long, crystalline spears on the bare tree branches. Soft, newly fallen snow blankets the earth in a pure, powdery white; and as I walk along the icy sidewalks, I can see children and even parents playing in the snow. It brings a smile to my face, to see such raw happiness on the faces of those children. In times like these, where the world was fragile and on the brink of so much chaos, it is a welcome sight indeed. 

Regardless of the brief lapse into comforting thoughts, reality slaps me in the face. The same niggling, negative thoughts that plague me, worm their way into my brain. I can't help but think how perfect today would be for Hughes to take Elicia out to the nearby park, and help her build a snowman. In fact, that's probably what he would have done... he would have called in 'sick' even if he would sound just fine, so he could spend this perfect day with little Elicia, and his precious wife Gracia. But dead men can't make up lies so they could spend more time with their families... no, they only rotted away beneath all the snow and the ice. 

I don't want to see Gracia and Elicia today. I don't want to see the sadness in Gracia's eyes, that she'll pretend isn't there, managing to cover it up with freshly baked pies and warm food to give me. I don't want to see young Elicia with her round, questioning eyes that will beg me for the answers I cannot give her. But Hughes is probably rolling around in his grave because it's taken me this long to visit his family and make sure they are okay... it's the least I can do to repay them after all. 

At this point I have been wandering on auto-pilot through the snow covered streets of Central, and now I am at a crossroads. One street will take me to the warm, inviting home of the Hughes family and the other-- well, it would lead me chasing down the end of a nice bottle of scotch. I have to make my decision, and even though any other day the answer would have been obvious, a peculiar feeling is gnashing at the back of my skull and begging me not to run away from my problems for once in my damn life. With a heavy sigh, I turn away from the welcoming glow of street lamps and coffee shop windows, and head instead down more ice covered sidewalks. 

 

I can hear the sounds of Gracia bustling about the kitchen, probably starting dinner for her and Elicia. Pale, golden light pours out from the living room and kitchen windows to dance along the glimmering snow at my feet. My breath puffs out in front of my face in hazy clouds, since the temperature seems to have dropped along with the sun falling below the skyline. It's only around 5:30 p.m. but the darkness of night is vastly approaching regardless. I make my way up the snow covered steps and into the lobby, climbing a set of stairs until I'm standing before the door-- I hesitate for a moment, before I knock. 

"Coming," Gracia's gentle voice floats towards the door, and I can hear her footsteps gradually coming closer. The door is wrenched open moments later, and there Gracia is, standing wide eyed with part of her left cheek covered in flour. "Oh, Roy-- I wasn't expecting to see you! Come in, you'll catch your death out there for sure. Would you like some tea, or coffee to help warm you up?" She ushers me inside without even questioning why I am here, and takes my coat from me, to hang it up on an empty hook by the door. That hook used to not be so empty. 

"Um, coffee would be nice, if you don't mind." Gracia smiles at me before she goes back into the kitchen, only to reappear moments later with a green mug, steam rolling up from it and to the ceiling. 

"Here you go, I had just put a pot on for Elicia and me. She seems to have taken a liking to it ever since..." Gracia falters, her green eyes filling up with tears for only an instant, before she blinks them away. "Well, I think she drinks it because Maes always had a cup before and after work. I'm sure it helps her keep him close."  
I want to comfort her, tell her something to at least ease her heartache; but my tongue seems to have become frozen in my mouth. I can only mumble a feeble, "Thanks," as she hands me my cup of coffee. There is an awkward sort of silence that follows, so I blow on my drink to cool it down a bit, before taking a couple cautious sips. 

"I'm making pot pie and soup for dinner, you're welcome to stay if you'd like." There it is, the infamous Hughes family hospitality that I dread and miss so dearly. I want to refuse, make up some lame excuse so I can leave and at least have my guilty conscious wiped away, because I saw with my own two eyes that Gracia, for the most part, is holding up fine. That just leaves... 

"Well, I was uh, planning on heading home as soon as possible-- I have a ton of work to do... but I, well I wanted to drop by and see how things were..."  
Gracia's smile is a little strained around the edges, but I know her, and when she has that certain set about her features, it means that she is doing her best to keep it together. 

"I'm doing as well as to be expected... I really appreciate you stopping by though Roy, you've always been such a good friend to our family." She looks away, and her cheeks are stained bright red. A woman on the verge of tears has always been my biggest downfall... 

Before I can really think about it, I have moved forward and wrap my arms loosely about her thin, shaking shoulders. Gracia tenses for only a moment, before relaxing in my comforting embrace; her own arms tied around the middle of my back. I stay silent, watching the waning steam from the mug that is still in one of my hands, drift upwards and dissipate. It's a somewhat ironic symbol if you thought too deeply into it, because life is a lot like those curling tendrils of heated vapor meeting cold air. It was brief, and some times, all too fleeting. Gracia sniffles softly, but refuses to let a single tear fall. I admire her strength, it was hard not to. 

A few moments later the trembling frame of Ms. Hughes pulls away, and she looks into my eyes, a small smile curls at her lips. She pats my cheek and says, "Thanks Roy, you're a real sweet heart when you want to be." I scowl at the implication that I'm a less than compassionate person more often than not... she laughs at my sour expression, and turns to walk back into the kitchen, but stops midway and faces me again. "Before you go, could you visit with Elicia? She's... she hasn't smiled much since-- since Maes was killed. I think seeing her uncle Roy might cheer her up a bit." 

A sharp pang pierces my beating heart and tears it to shreds. The memory of Elicia's cries, the plaintive wailing for her father to come back to her, how all I could do was watch that little girl's world end and try my damndest not to break down too. Hughes would find a way to make my life miserable from beyond the grave if I didn't see Elicia as well, and maybe try and help bring her sunny smile back to life. 

"Of course I have the time to visit my favorite niece!" It's a tad forced, but I laugh and try to smile for this broken family that means so much to me. 

"Thank you Roy. Elicia is playing in her room, she said it was 'pretty Princess time' so she might rope you into playing the Prince." A gentle laugh tumbles from Gracia's shapely lips, her eyes sparkle like polished jade. Before she can slip back into the kitchen, this time I reach over and wipe the flour off of her cheek. She seems startled for a moment, maybe thinks I'm trying to hit on her, until she see's the powdery substance smeared across my fingers. Gracia laughs again, and blushes. 

It's hard not to laugh too, even if it is painful and every sharp intake of breath into my lungs feels like icy needles stabbing into me. Grief is like that. It can somehow manifest your emotional pain, into something physical, something that aches and leaves you completely drained. The laughter dies quickly, as it always does when you desperately want it to last so much longer. "I have to finish making dinner, so you can go visit Elicia now. And you'll be staying for dinner tonight, no if's, and's, or but's about it Mister!" 

Gracia sets me with a hard stare, and I know then that I was screwed out of an evening of drinking... how the hell could I say 'no' to that face? "Alright, alright," I raise my hands in mock defense, "I concede defeat." She nods triumphantly, and makes her way back into the kitchen. 

 

The hallway is barely lit by the dull light seeping from Elicia's doorway, and everything has an eerie silence about it. There is no girlish peals of laughter, or the deep rumble of Maes's voice speaking hushed bed time stories like so many times before. I stand in the doorway, and look in cautiously, trying to steel myself a bit before enduring Elicia's uncharacteristic melancholy. She is sitting quietly at her play table, wearing her favorite pink dress that Riza sewed for her third birthday party. She seems to be fiddling with some thing, occasionally plunking it down onto the table, only to pick it up and toy with it again.  
Sucking in a shuddery breath, my knuckles rap against the open door to get her attention. Elicia jolts and turns around, a joyous smile spreads across her innocent face as she cries out, "Daddy?!" All of the bright hope that fills into her bright green eyes, slowly filters away as she recognizes who it really is. I'm not hurt by her apparent disappointment, the stabbing in my chest is merely a product of my own self hatred. It really should have been me, instead of Hughes lying six feet under the snowy ground.  
"Oh. Hello uncle Roy!" 

She brightens up a bit, probably a trick she learned from her mother; knowing not to show her sadness and shove her problems onto others. Elicia is so young, and already has to deal with so much... 

"Hey! How's it going cutie-pie?" I wink at her, and she blushes at the pet name I have been calling her since she was born. After everything, Maes's over zealous dotting rubbed off even on me when it came to little Elicia. 

She tilts her head cutely to the side and asks, "Did you come to play Princess with me uncle Roy?" Her eyes are big, and her smile is so damn wide and hopeful, that the only answer I could ever give to that question would be 'yes'.

"I sure did! I heard that you were looking for a dashing prince charming to sweep you off of your feet, little lady." I make my inside and sit down beside her on the ground; enjoying the giddy smile on her face. 

Elicia giggles and wraps her tiny arms around my much larger forearm. "Yay! You can be my knight in shimmering armor uncle Roy! You'll have to fight off dragons and ogres to save me, but in the end we can have a tea party with all the unicorn kingdom!" Her warm cheek presses against me as she laughs and smiles like the little girl she is supposed to be. Not the grief stricken one I had seen at the funeral. 

I puff my chest out and proclaim in my most heroic voice, "Fear not fair Princess, for I shall save thee just in time for strawberry cake and tea!" 

"Oooooh, strawberry cake is my favorite uncle Roy!" Elicia laughs and hugs my arm tighter. Seeing her so happy because of me, makes my heart feel full of love; and a tender ache to protect this little girl from more of life's harsh lessons burns like a fire within me. Her smile slowly fades though, and her previous melancholy begins to seep in. "Only... I can't be a Princess without my magical nail polish that daddy bought me." 

I glance to the small bottle left forgotten on the table. It's filled with a powdery pink liquid, with a clear crystal glass topper. Hughes must have bought this for her before he...  
"Hey," I say suddenly, tilting her round little face up to meet my gaze, "who says you still can't be a Princess?" 

"Daddy always painted my nails before we played Princess. We pretended that it was a magic spell that transformed me. Sometimes he would let me paint his nails too, and then we would both be Princesses." She laughs at the end, and I can tell she is remembering happier times. In fact, the image of Hughes sporting bright pink nail polish is funny enough to make me laugh as well. 

I take her small hands in my own, and squeeze them in a show of comfort. I want to make her happy, only if it is for tonight, I want her to forget the pain life so cruelly inflicted upon her. "Hey, chin up cutie pie, that's why uncle Roy is here!" I make a show of looking around furtively and leaning in, cupping a hand to the side of my mouth. "I shouldn't really say this, but it seems like you need to hear this special secret." I whisper softly, so only she can hear. 

Her eyes light up and twinkle like shimmering emeralds; the endless excitement for secrets that children love, is written all over her face. "Oh please tell me uncle Roy! I promise I won't tell anyone else, cross my heart." Elicia looks so eager and determined to keep my secret, it almost makes me laugh. 

"Well, if you pinky swear to never tell any one, I can let you know my super special secret." 

Elicia immediately holds out her pinky and exclaims, "I pinky swear!" We link pinkies and shake twice for good measure, to make sure our secret pact will last. 

"Okay, you have proven yourself a most honest, and faithful Princess." I take the bottle of polish in my hands, the label flashing Princess Pink in the soft light. "I've never told any one else, but I can transform little girls into Princesses too, with just a dash of this magic polish." 

Elicia looks crestfallen as she mumbles, "Don't be silly uncle Roy... it was just pretend." 

"How can you be so sure? What if it really is magic and when you wear it, you become a beautiful Princess?" She brightens up a bit at that. 

Elicia wiggles excitedly, "You mean, it could really work?" 

"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" I wink, and lightly shake the bottle in my hand. Elicia seems to understand what I mean, if her squeal of joy is any indication. Her tiny hand reaches out toward me, palm down, her little crescent nails displayed. I twist the cap open, the sharp acidic smell of the pink liquid assaults my nose. I never understood the reason why women willingly coated their nails in this foul smelling stuff... but if this helped wipe away Elicia's gloom, then I would put up with it a million times over. 

The thin brush is adequately saturated in the pink polish, so I set the bottle down on the table and take Elicia's warm little hand in mine. I have watched plenty of ex-girlfrien's in the past do this, so I have a loose idea of how to paint nails. With the utmost concentration, I make the first tentative swipe across her miniscule pinky. My tongue pokes out from between my lips, and my eyebrows knit together fiercely; so when Elicia begins to giggle and say, "Uncle Roy, your face looks funny!" I have to agree, it probably does. 

Her green eyes are glued to the shimmery, pale pink color that gradually stains her little nails. "Ooooh, it's so pretty! Just like my favorite dress that Auntie Riza gave me." She practically glows with happiness and it makes my heart fill with the same warm, radiant light. How can any one stay gloomy around such pure, sweet innocence? 

"It is pretty, isn't it? The perfect color for a Princess." I exclaim, finishing off the first hand, and moving onto the next. I pride myself in my steady hands, a trait that has been instilled in me through the Military. Even if all I normally do is blow shit up, learning how to draw perfect Alchemy circles, and holding a gun sure did the trick. 

"Uncle Roy, have you ever met a real Princess?" Elicia tilts her round face upwards, and she stares at me with such avid attention, the kind of stare most children have when asking such deep, probing questions. 

I finish her other hand, and put the cap back onto the bottle. "No, I can't say that I have." She frowns a bit at that, a look that plainly says that I have somehow crushed her hopes and dreams. "B-but," I begin to back pedal and do some damage control, "If I ever do meet a Princess, I promise to introduce her to you okay?" 

Elicia dances excitedly in her seat and squeals, "You'll have to do both of our nails, and drink tea with us, and help us groom her pet unicorn!" 

I laugh, Elicia's wild imagination is adorable and entirely amusing. "Okay, I promise cutie-pie. Now don't get too excited, we have to let your nails dry." Elicia nods her head, and lays her palms down onto the table, sitting completely still. 

We are silent for a while, Elicia admiring her sparkling nails, and me content to be with her even in silence. "U-uncle Roy...?" Her tiny voice fills up the room, even though she whispered. 

"Yes sweetie?" 

Her gaze is stuck to the table, and I have to wait a few minutes for her to reply. I know it is probably going to be something hard for her to say, something she has to muster all of her strength to ask me. 

"Is... is daddy really never coming back? Is he... really gone forever?" 

Here comes the clenching, the tight, constrictive ache that squeezes my heart so tightly it feels like it is going to burst. What can I say? How can I have the courage to tell this little girl, this precious, sweet girl who means more to me than I ever dreamed she would, that her daddy... he was never coming home. My fingers dig painfully into my thighs, it's the only thing keeping me from shaking in this moment. 

Elicia doesn't wait for a reply, somehow I think my lack of words gives her the answer anyway. "M-mommy says... that daddy-- that daddy can never come home again. She told me that the angels needed someone strong, and smart to protect them, so they took him back." Big, fat tears roll down Elicia's round cheeks, her button nose scrunches up as she cries. "I don't b-believe mommy! S-she's lying to me... r-right Uncle Roy? D-daddy's coming home soon... i-isn't he?" 

Desperate, imploring green eyes beg me to tell her anything but the sad, painful truth. I feel m heart break, as silly as it is to say that a heart can do that, but the pain-- the overwhelming hurt and sadness that engulfs every part of my being is proof that it can. A fiery, sharp sensation makes my fingers fly to my cheeks, the warm wetness of tears seep into the fabric of my silk gloves. I didn't want this to happen, this was why I never wanted to come here again... because I wasn't strong enough not to cry. 

"I-I... Elicia I'm sorry," I whisper brokenly, "your daddy, he-- h-he isn't coming home. I wish I could tell you he is, but I just... I don't want you believing in something that's never going to happen." My throat hurts from trying to hold back the tears. I want to sob like a little child, throw a fit until I cried so hard tears can't possibly fall from my eyes ever again. I am the adult here though, and adults have to be strong... so my throat clenches down the choking sobs that threaten to bubble over. 

Elicia should hate me, she should scream and yell-- tell me that it's all my fault, because that's what I deserve. She isn't like that though, she is made of far kinder stuff than I. She throws herself into my chest, and clings to me with her tiny, shaking arms as she cries. "U-uncle Roy, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you c-cry... I'm s-sorry." She buries her face into my chest and sobs harder, her sounds muffled in the fabric of my shirt. 

It's a pure, raw need to embrace my precious niece; so I wrap my arms around her, and hold her as close as possible. "E-elicia... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I bury my face in her soft brown hair. We stay like this for a long time, crying and holding eachother until the tears turn into hiccups. Eventually I calm down, and peel Elicia away from me. Her eyes are as puffy, and red as mine probably are. 

Cupping her soft cheeks in my hands, I tilt her face up to meet my gaze. "It's okay sweetie. Thank you for helping me feel better, without you I wouldn't have had the strength to cry like that." She seems puzzled, but I didn't expect her to understand what I meant anyway. I don't bother explaining, I just wipe away the tear stains on her blotchy face. 

"I know what will cheer you up uncle Roy!" Elicia squeezes my arm softly in a sweet imitation of what I had done earlier to comfort her. 

"Yeah, what do you have in mind cutie-pie?" I smile a little, to prove that I'm still not breaking inside. 

Elicia grabs the bottle of Princess Pink nail polish, and waves it in front of my face as she proclaims, "My magic Princess polish can make you pretty, just like me! Daddy always did my nails to cheer me up when I was sad." There is a bright sparkle in her eyes, a look that says she wants to help make me feel better, even though it was my job in the first place to cheer her up. 

I inherently want to refuse; what man would get his nails painted to make themselves feel better? Not to mention how I would die of embarrassment if anyone ever saw my nails all pink, and glittery. But, Elicia looks so determined, so thrilled to act like a grown up... how the hell could I say 'no' to that cute, little pout? Without a word I splay my hands, palms down, onto the powder blue play table. Elicia giggles and grabs the pink bottle. She tries to twist off the cap, and finds it harder than it seems.  
"Can you do it?" Elicia pouts cutely, and looks extremely put out that she can't open it herself. A hearty laugh builds up in my chest and tumbles out as I take the polish from her small hands, and twist the cap off for her. 

"There you go," I hand both halves of it to her and reposition my hands upon the table. I blush heavily as the first cold, wet streak is brushed across my thumbnail.

After a few minutes, there is a gentle knock on the door. "Dinner's ready you two." I turn and see Gracia standing in the hallway, a giant smile on her face. She seems utterly amused by the scene she has stumbled across; a laugh obviously stifled behind her hand. 

"Look momma, Uncle Roy is becoming a beautiful Princess with me!" Elicia giggles excitedly, and accidentally swishes the brush off of my nail, and onto my skin. 

Gracia comes closer to inspect her daughter's handiwork. Two thin, graceful eyebrows arch up to her stylish bangs as she proclaims, "Wow sweetie, you're doing such a wonderful job. I hardly recognized your uncle, he looks so darn pretty!" A saccharine sweet smile curls her pink lips, but Gracia's deep green eyes glitter too mischievously for it to be innocent. 

I have to reign in a childish pout, because Elicia has turned her full, undivided attention my way. "Yes, I do have to admit, it makes me feel... pretty." Gracia seems floored for a moment, eyes wide and mouth hung open; but then she bursts out in peals of bright laughter. Her eyes scrunch tightly closed, tiny tears gather at the edges because she is laughing so damn hard. 

"Oh... oh dear," she wipes away the tears from her eyes, one arm still clutching her side. "Wow Roy, you never cease to surprise me." Gracia sucks in a great lung full of air, and breathes it out slowly to help calm her self down. "You both can finish up, but I want those hands washed before you come to dinner." She wags her index finger at us as a warning, before turning on her heel to leave us to our own devices; most likely gone to set the table for the three of us. 

Elicia quickly finishes up my last two nails, and then caps the bottle. "I'm gonna go wash my hands now uncle Roy, otherwise momma won't let me have dessert." Elicia gets up and totters her way toward the bathroom down the hall. I hear her scoot her tiny wooden stool over to sink, and moments later the spout is gushing forth water. I wait patiently for my nails to dry, so I can join them, busying myself staring at the jagged, imperfect lines of color across my fingernails. 

 

Dinner was absolutely delicious; a warm, hearty meal perfect for cold winter nights. Gracia made savory chicken pot pie, and an enormous pot of vegetable soup-- and for dessert, her famous apple pie, with extra whipped cream for Elicia and me. My stomach is full to bursting, a lazy contentment washing over me from eating too much good food. Gracia is busying herself with cleaning the dishes, which she refused to let me help with-- batting my arm affectionately when I offered and said, "With your past experience in my kitchen? I don't want anything to get broken, so just sit and keep Elicia company." 

Elicia sits beside me, trying her best to finish off her slice of apple pie. I idly look over to the antique clock hanging on the wall, surprised to see that it is only now reaching seven. There is a content silence for a while, while I digest my food and Elicia gives up on finishing her dessert.  
Gracia pops her head into the dining room briefly to ask, "Would you like me to send some of this home with you? We have plenty of leftovers." 

"Yeah, that would be greatly appreciated," I reply, and pat my bloated stomach jokingly. She laughs and ducks back into the kitchen. A few minutes later she reappears and hands me a bag with a few containers of food in it. "Thanks, it's been a while since I've had such a delicious meal." 

Gracia blushes happily, always pleased to share some of her gentle hospitality. "I'm glad you enjoyed the food so much," she says as she pats my tummy. I stand and give the former Misses Hughes an affectionate hug. Even after I intended to come here and cheer up these two wonderful people, in the end it was them who healed me. 

Elicia comes over and tugs on my trousers, her big green eyes stare up at me imploringly. "Are you leaving now uncle Roy?" She looks a little disappointed when I nod my head 'yes'. "Oh... okay," she pouts cutely for a moment, before her face clears up and a smile blossoms. "But, you'll come over again and play Princess with me, right uncle Roy?" 

I look between the two pairs of vivid green eyes, Gracia's full of apology for her daughter's words, and Elicia's brimming with childish hope. I know I can never fill the giant shoes Hughes' love for his family left behind... but, I can at least try and take a step in them, one tiny gesture of kindness at a time. I bend down so I can be at eye level with my little niece, and I take her tiny hands in mine. I stare at our matching nails for a moment, amused by the things that could make a young girl happy before replying, "Of course cutie-pie." 

I look up at Gracia for approval as I continue, "And if it's okay with your mom, maybe I can come over once a week so we can play." 

The biggest fucking smile the world has possibly ever seen, graces Elicia's face in that moment, and she turns to her mother, her round eyes pleading for Gracia to say yes. 

Gracia falters for a moment, looking to me as she says, "Well... I'm sure your uncle is very busy with--" 

I cut her off before she can make excuses for me, "I'm sure I can find time for my favorite girl's." I wink roguishly for good measure. 

Gracia smiles reluctantly and replies, "If uncle Roy wants to, it's fine with me honey." 

Elicia throws her arms around me and squeals happily as she hugs me tight. "I love you uncle Roy!" I pat her head, say 'I love ou too,' and hug her back. She pulls away, and in her young innocence, says words that almost break my heart again. "I'm so happy to have my uncle Roy, and mommy. And maybe sometime big brother's Ed and Al, and big sissy Winry can come and play too. That would make daddy happy, to see us all happy and smiling together." 

Tears spring forth, and sting my eyes with their salty bite; and I can see a few roll down Gracia's cheeks. I squeeze Elicia's tiny hands, "I'm sure that would make him very happy, Elicia." She nods, and looks up to her mother. 

"Why are you crying momma, did I do something wrong?" 

Gracia catches herself and wipes away the tear tracks on her face, forcing herself to smile instead. "Oh, it's nothing sweetheart-- I'm just happy to see your smiling face, is all." I know it is a little white lie, to spare her daughter from the sadder truth; that each time, deep down she was breaking each time Hughes was mentioned. 

Elicia goes over and hugs her mother. Even if she may not understand all of the complex things adults feel, she knows enough to give a hug when it is needed.  
After that, I am sent home with good food and two bright smiles to send me on my way, Elicia standing at the window to wave me frantically goodbye as I am swept back into the blistery cold streets of Central. 

 

A week passed since the day I visited the Hughes household; sent away with enough food to feed me for a few days, and a heavy burden made lighter because of the smiles and kindness I now know will always be waiting for me. The pink polish has almost chipped away by now, hidden most of the time beneath my silk gloves. 

The weather cleared up considerably, and while it was still rather cold, the sun shone brightly today and glinted off of the waning patches of snow. Maybe I should take Elicia out to build a snowman today, before all the snow melted away. 

The clock strikes four, indicating that work is over for me and some of my subordinates. I gather together my things, and leave the building as I bid farewell to Falman and Breda since they were choosing to work over time today. I make my way out of Central Command, and am greeted by Havoc, Hawkeye and Fuery; all of them wave me over.

"Hey boss!" Havoc slugs me on the shoulder when I arrive in the midst of their little group. I shoot him a very disapproving glare, which he studiously chooses to ignore. "Wanna go drinking with us? Falman and Breda said they'll join us later, so the gang will all be there."

Any other time I would have said yes, would have delighted in getting drunk with my best friends; but today, I have a special date, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. "Sorry guys, I have a date with a pretty young thing, and it's one I just can't pass up." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hawkeye smile knowingly. 

"Aw Mustang, you get all the ladies... she better be pretty hot, since you're blowin' us off like this." Havoc has his hands on hips, and his shoulders raised in a shrug that says, 'I guess it can't be helped'. 

I smile crookedly, wanting to tease the poor man instead of give him the simple truth. "I wouldn't say she's 'hot' but she is criminally adorable." 

Jean moans, and raises his hands in defeat. "You win, you win. Have fun on your date Colonel." The three of them say goodbye to me in their own way, and walk off down the street. 

I smile fondly, making my own way toward a place I can always call my second home, knowing a nice hot meal and a pair of smiles, would be waiting for me.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a polished version of a story I wrote years ago that I posted to fanfiction.net  
> If you enjoyed it, please let me know!


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